


Overpowered

by fwooshy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (sort of), Assumptions, Drarropoly: A Drarry Game/Fest, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Powerful Harry, Wand Cores, Wand Theory, some bad jokes were made
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27691928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fwooshy/pseuds/fwooshy
Summary: Harry doesn't want to give Draco his wand back.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 135
Collections: Drarropoly '20: Founders Edition





	Overpowered

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [glittering_git](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittering_git/) for the beta!

There was the matter of Draco Malfoy's wand. The matter was that Harry had kept it.

"It's not like he's using it," he justified to Hermione on an outing to the plant nursery, "He's not allowed magic while he's awaiting trial anyway."

The bushy-haired woman looked confused. "Are you talking to me?"

Harry frowned. "It's me, 'Mione, Ha —"

"Harry, over here," Hermione hissed. Oh, right. Harry had forgotten that they were glamoured. Today, Hermione had given herself pink hair and a few extra inches while Harry had settled on white-blond hair and a rather pointy nose.

"Harry. It's not your wand to keep, even if he's not going to use it."

Except it  _ was _ . Harry had won it from Draco, fair and square, as the wand theorists liked to say. He should know; he'd studied a nontrivial amount of wand theory after the whole Voldemort's-Soul-Is-In-My-Wand-And-Also-Me debacle. 

Harry shuddered. "Voldemort really did just give his soul out to everything and everyone, didn't he?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, I suppose you could say that he was remarkably soul-bearing, given who he was."

Harry snorted, turning away from her to rub a waxy leaf between his fingers. It didn't bite back, which was a good sign. The last one had  _ licked _ him, which was disgusting, if not dangerous. "Do you think Neville's the sort of bloke who prefers the pretty ones or the more interesting ones?"

"Women can be both pretty  _ and _ interesting. I can't believe I have to tell you that."

"Oh." Harry paused. He supposed they  _ could _ be, hypothetically. No woman Harry had ever met had been physically attractive to him though; they'd mostly only been interesting, and he had wanted to try out the whole kissing thing. But that wasn't what he meant.

"I meant for plants."

"Oh, whatever" — Hermione shrugged — "We'll just get him something around ten Galleons that looks like it's not going to poison us to death, and if he wants something more interesting, he can come back and exchange it himself."

Harry made a face. Hermione was awful at gifts; last year she'd gotten him a toothbrush. But it was getting stuffy in the greenhouse, so Harry went along with her plan.

Neville liked their plants. "These will look great next to the Puffskein display case in Grandmother's taxidermy room," he enthused, putting them in the corner of the parlour where a potted forest was taking root. It was evident that everyone had had the same idea.

Neville gazed fondly at the new additions. "Does anyone know a good misting spell? I've left my wand in the kitchen."

"Oh, I've got it —" Harry started to say before Hermione pulled him back.

"You can't do it wandlessly," Hermione whispered fiercely, "You've no control of it at all. You'll drench this whole room!"

"Err — right, sorry 'Mione." He drew out his wand. " _ Mitis Caligo. _ " A gentle fog enveloped the plants. Crisis averted. 

Hermione was looking at his wand because it was Draco's wand. Well,  _ technically _ , it was Harry's. 

"I'll give it back after the trials, alright?" he tried negotiating.

Her eyes narrowed, but she let it drop because Luna walked in then with a shrieking Mandrake in each fist. There was a big rush to get out of the parlour and into the kitchens, where a three-tiered chocolate cake teased them until Neville finally came down looking exceedingly pleased, even if he was a bit smudged up with dirt.

The thing was, it wasn't even about it being (previously) Draco's wand. It was about it not being Harry's. Harry was afraid of his wand. 11", holly, reasonably springy. It wouldn't be a problem if it had stopped there, but then there was that damn phoenix feather.

It was like he was destined to be Voldemort's bloody twin.

Dumbledore had said that it was the choices that he made that mattered, but Harry also knew that a mouse couldn't kill a tiger even if it wanted to. It was like the way Draco couldn't kill Dumbledore, or Katie Bell, or Rosmerta, or Ron. He didn't have it in him, not even with a wand to his family's throat. But Molly Weasley had it in her to murder Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry took out Draco's wand and pointed it at the ceiling of his bedroom. " _ Sidereum Nox _ ," he cast and watched the night sky unfurl gently above him. He loved Draco's wand. It took his magic and tamed it, made it soft.

Draco sent Harry a letter after he'd been acquitted. "Harry Potter," he'd written, along with several lines of stilted apologies, and a lengthy, nearly-run-on sentence on how grateful he was that Harry had spoken for him at his trial. He'd requested that they meet up for tea sometime, and Harry begrudgingly agreed. He knew what this was actually about. It was about his wand.

"You're going to have to overpower me to get it back," Harry informed Draco between crumbly bites of scone.

"Yes, I  _ know _ ." Draco sounded exasperated. Probably because it was the third time that Harry had explained it.

"It'll have to be real. The wand knows if it's a practice duel. So you'll have to actually want to kill me, which we both know you can't do. So you might as well go to Ollivander's and get another wand."

"I  _ did _ get another wand. It doesn't work as well. And besides, I don't have to  _ kill _ you. You didn't kill me, you only — shoved me — to the side —" the words strangled in Draco's throat.

"Yeah, so?"

"So, can't I just shove you?" Draco's ears pinked up. It was rather cute, actually.

Harry shook his head. "I can't just let you shove me. It'll know that I let you win." Not that Harry had any intention of letting him win. It was  _ his _ wand now. Draco had no right to it.

"I'll just have to surprise-shove you then," Draco declared. There was a distracting smudge of jam in the corner of his mouth. It made him look a bit maniacal. 

Harry wiped his own mouth with a napkin. "Can I go now?"

Harry was at Flourish and Blotts the third time Draco tried to surprise-shove him. He caught himself on the edge of a bookshelf right as Draco crashed into his chest, stumbling.

Draco straightened up. "Right. Until next time then, Potter," he promised with a sneer.

"Wait," Harry said, grabbing Draco by his robes.

Draco waited.

"How'd you know it was me?" Harry had white-blond hair and a pointy nose. Today, he'd spent an extra ten minutes in front of the mirror coaxing his chin to be a bit pointier, too; he thought it'd complement his pointy nose.

"Recognised the shirt."

"That's a bit —" Harry wrinkled his nose. He wanted to say  _ creepy _ , but he realized that he also recognized Draco's robes. They were about as blue as the midnight sky; Harry's second-favourite.

Draco rolled his eyes, unabashed. "The entirety of your closet consists of about ten pieces total that you've kept around since your first year at Hogwarts. Your other clothes are Weasley home-spun fare, which makes them even more obvious since there's a bludgeoning H stitched over each one. Of course I'd recognize what you'd wear."

Harry blushed. He  _ had _ been feeling a bit self-conscious about what he wore, especially since Ginny had started gushing over how Neville looked so handsome in his new tailored trousers and cashmere jumpers. So really, he blamed his traitorous insecurity for asking Draco to help him shop for clothes.

Draco agreed. Probably because it gave him more opportunities to surprise-shove Harry.

"I think we should get the lamb samosas," Harry proposed over the table.

Draco was looking intently at the menu. There was a little line between his brows that Harry couldn't stop staring at. He flipped to the back of the menu and brightened. "Found the drinks! Don't know why they bothered redoing the menus; they were perfectly fine before." He rubbed a finger over the menu fondly. "Helloooo, Bollybellini, my beloved."

"Is this going to be a regular thing?" Ron motioned to Draco without much venom.

Harry shrugged. "Figure we'd expedite the whole wand-overpowering thing if he's around a bunch more." It was about the fourth time they'd all gotten dinner, so Harry supposed it was a regular thing now, even if he hadn't planned for it to be.

"Right," Ron agreed, resigned to his fate, regardless of how crazy it was. Such was the life of Harry Potter's best friend.

"Your usual Colaba Colada then, Weasley?"

"Is that the one I usually get?"

Draco's lips pursed. "That is what would typically make a drink a usual, yes."

Harry wanted to kiss those lips.

Wait, what?

"Merlin, I could kiss you," Ron enthused. "I can never remember what it's called."

"Disgusting," Draco decided. Harry nodded furiously in agreement.

Hermione slid into the booth next to Ron so that Harry's leg was shoved up against Draco's. "Ordered the drinks yet?"

"No, Harry jumped ahead and started looking at the food again," Draco complained.

"That won't do." Hermione twisted around and waved her hand at a waiter. "What? Don't tell me your weeks were any better than mine," she accused.

"Merlin, no," Ron started whingeing, "A Kneazle got into our stash of Putrid Poppers and the whole store smelled for hours until I could air it out enough. Hey, no —" he swatted Hermione's hand away from his water.

"I'm  _ thirsty _ ," she whined, "I'll only take a few sips —"

"I put a few drops of CBD in it," Ron confessed.

"Oh for the love of —" Harry interjected before they could start arguing, " _ Aguamenti _ ." Hermione's glass filled up neatly, leaving a thumb's width room from the top to prevent spillage. Perfect. He loved Draco's wand.

Draco was staring at the wand. "You — you use it?" he stammered.

Harry blushed. "Must've grabbed the wrong wand," he lied.

"You keep my wand on you all the time?"

"Okay, first of all, it's  _ my wand _ . The wand theorists all agree that I've won it, fair and square. So it's  _ mine _ . Second of all —"

Draco had gone bright red. He stood up abruptly, his whole body trembling. Harry's palms started to sweat. He didn't mean to make Draco so upset, it was — not his intention, it was — 

"Second of all," Harry tried again at the same time Draco blurted out "I have to go!"

Harry watched Draco's retreating back, dumbfounded. He felt like he'd done something terribly wrong. He stood up to go after Draco, but he didn't know where Draco lived. Draco was a bloody wizard, so he probably Apparated straight home, so it wasn't as though he could run Draco down on the streets.

"What was the second part?"

Harry blinked blankly at Ron. "Have to have it on me, for him to win it from me."

"And you couldn't start with that?"

"Jesus," Harry said, sitting back down and burying his head in his hands. "Where is that waiter? I need a bloody drink."

Harry cornered Draco coming down the steps of Gringotts the next day. Draco wore the body of an old man with a limp. Harry recognized him because he used the same glamour every week to check on the Malfoy vaults with his accountant.

Harry made his own glamour breakthrough this morning. For weeks, he'd been stuck at a dark green muddled sort of thing, but today he'd managed to colour his eyes a wispy shade of silver. 

"I'm busy," Draco lied.

"No, you're not. You're headed off to Fortescue's, where you'll have a mint chip fudge sundae with the morning paper."

Draco gaped at him. "That's —"

Harry winced. He knew Draco was going to say creepy, and it  _ was _ a tad stalkerish. But he also knew that Draco wasn't any better, so he thought that he shouldn't feel too guilty about it.

Harry followed him to Fortescue's, where he helped himself to Draco's sundae. Draco never finished it, anyway. Then they'd gotten into an argument over who'd been the better Seeker, which resulted in a robust tussle that Draco did not manage to win. After, they Apparated to the Quidditch pitch by Grimmauld Place. Harry released a snitch, and they soared up toward it, flying so close to each other that Harry thought he could feel Draco's breath on his.

Draco caught the snitch, and then immediately demanded for his wand. But even before Harry took out the wand, he knew that Draco hadn't won it back.

"Sorry, dunno what happened," Harry said sincerely.

"It must've not been a legitimate competition."

Harry thought about it. "I guess I didn't really want to win," he confessed.

"You think I'm not —"

_ "No _ ," Harry said emphatically, seizing Draco's hands. " _ No _ , it was because I was having such a great time that I kinda just forgot about the whole competition aspect, alright?"

Draco looked subdued. "Well, I suppose that's alright," he said a bit sulkily, "You've got more surprise-shoves to look forward to then, so bully for you."

Harry breathed a long sigh of relief. "I'm starving. Do you want dinner? I was planning on cooking."

"Do you have a shower?"

"Of  _ course _ I have a shower. You know, even us lowly commoners can cleanse ourselves within the confines of our own homes —"

"Alright, alright," Draco laughed, slinging an arm around Harry, "Let's go then."

Draco's hand gripped Harry's shoulder tightly. Harry could barely concentrate on Apparating.

"What is it?" Harry asked peevishly. Draco was frowning slightly, even though his wine glass was full, and the fireplace was on, and the sofa was transfigured to the appropriate level of squishiness, and he said the food was perfectly acceptable, delicious even — 

"Can't you take that glamour off now that we're back inside? It's creeping me out."

"Oh, sorry." Harry cast a Finite Incantatem.

Draco's mouth was still downturned. "Do you wear that glamour around all the time?"

"Not all the time," Harry lied.

"You  _ do _ , don't you." Draco's nose was scrunching up.

"So what if I do?" Harry retorted hotly, "You never know where the reporters might hide."

"I don't give a Pygmy Puff’s round arse if you wear a glamour all the time, Potter. It's only — does it have to look so similar to  _ me? _ "

Harry blanched. "I. What?"

"You didn't even realize," Draco mused.

"I. No!" Harry's face started burning up. "Why would I — intentionally —"

"Why would you,  _ unintentionally? _ "

Because he wanted to be Draco Malfoy. He wanted to know that he couldn't kill anyone, even if he thought the world depended on it, even if he wanted to more than anything. But at some point over the weeks, he'd also started to like Draco himself. The Draco that was funny (if a bit mean) and a brilliant flyer and —

"You've got a really nice arse," Harry blurted out.

"I…" Draco trailed off faintly. "You've…  _ gotanicearsetoo _ . I mean without the glamour. Glamoured is nice too, minus the part where you look like my long lost brother, but —" His ears were pinking again. Bloody adorable.

"Didya wanna make out or something?" 

"I…" Draco gulped. "Yes. But —" he stopped Harry from lunging on him to look down at his plate reluctantly. "I'm still eating. It's — quite excellent."

"It can wait," Harry insisted, moving Draco's plate to the coffee table and casting a wandless spell to keep it warm. The plate immediately burnt to a crisp; the resulting fire started eating away at the coffee table. "Fuck!" Harry cursed, waving his arm around. A torrential downpour rained down over them, instantly drenching the room. Harry started waving his arm around again, but Draco stopped him with a hand on his elbow.

"Maybe you should try a wand?"

Oh, right. Harry drew out Draco's wand and dried up the room in a matter of seconds. He even managed to sweep up the chimney dust that had started collecting over the hearth.

"Sorry about — that," Harry motioned toward the charred remains of dinner. Unfortunately, there was no spell to unburn food.

"It's alright. I'll… I was about done anyway."

Harry reached over and touched the side of Draco's face so that Draco would look up at him. "Look, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean for, I mean, I totally understand if you want to leave —"

"You really do prefer my wand, don't you." Draco bit his lip. "It wasn't a — a joke or anything. You weren't really trying to taunt me whenever you took out my wand. You really do need it."

"I… yes," Harry blushed. "It's. It's so  _ gentle _ . I don't ever have to, I mean. It's like, it takes me and then it — I'm sorry, I'm not explaining it well, it's just. You don't understand how much of a relief it is for me to have your wand. I don't have to worry about it acting out, or being — too enthusiastic, or — like, even when I'm feeling out of control, it's still gentle. I can always rely on it to be gentle. And, I —"

"You need it." Draco was smiling a little, even though he shouldn't be, because Harry had all but revealed that he'd never had any intention of returning Draco's wand at all.

"I’m being selfish. You ought to have it. I —" Harry hesitated, throat choking, "I'm sorry."

Draco was thumbing little circles into Harry's thigh. It felt nice. Harry's breath started to even out. 

"You can have it," Draco declared.

Harry's eyes widened. "No, I can't —"

"You clearly need it more than me. My wand works alright for what I need to do with it."

"But —"

Draco pressed a finger to Harry's lips. "I'm probably going to be a barrister, and last time I checked, a quill works better for writing than a wand. But, if you're going to go off and save us from Dark Wizards again, you're going to need a wand that works. You can have it. I don't want it anymore."

Harry felt his heart tightening. He pulled Draco into his lap, threading a hand through Draco's hair. "You're amazing," he whispered, feeling overpowered. Draco nudged their noses together. Harry could feel him smiling as he pressed his lips against his.

And then that's when Harry felt it. The slightest twitch of his wand. It didn't want to be in Harry's cloak, Harry could  _ feel  _ it. He didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or cry. Trust the wand to reevaluate loyalties right when Draco had decided he didn't want it. 

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, pulling back. He was frowning again, so Harry laughed instead. Draco would find the irony funny, and he'd be happy to get his wand back. Harry could deal with that. Maybe he could go to Ollivander's, get another wand —

"Seriously, Harry, you're scaring me."

"You've won my wand. I can feel it twitching."

Draco made a face. "Is that some sort of euphemism for your —"

"Merlin no! The wand must've decided sometime while we were — you know — that I'd been overwhelmed, or overpowered —" Harry blushed because he  _ had. _ He'd been overpowered with happiness. Not that he'd tell Draco that; it'd probably come off as too intense, and then Draco would leave.

"Oh." Draco's cheeks were red too, and his eyes lit up for a second before they narrowed again. "But I don't  _ want _ your wand anymore."

"I know!" Harry laughed harder, "Bloody wand magic, who came up with this crap anyway?"

"Merlin," Draco sighed.

"Merlin's saggy balls indeed."

"No, I mean, actually Merlin. He created the first wand."

"Oh. Well."

"I suppose you might as well hand it over." Draco was thumbing his lower lip. "After I have it again, you can shove me and win it back."

Harry reached into his pocket and handed over his wand. "No need for me to win it back. It's yours now."

Draco held the wand across his palms and looked down at it curiously. "This isn't my wand, Harry."

It wasn't. (Well, technically, it  _ was _ Draco's, since he'd won it but —) It was Harry's first wand, the one with the phoenix feather. Huh. He hadn’t considered that possibility.

"Might as well give it a swish," Harry encouraged. He didn't know what to expect, so he kept his own hand on his wand to counter any backfires Draco's new wand might throw at them.

Draco charmed a garland of holly over the mantle. They watched it grow from the centre out, each leaf unfurling as the vines stretched down the sides of the fireplace.

"It's perfect," Draco whispered.

He really was.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for my first [Drarropoly](https://gameofdrarry.tumblr.com/post/632801133090439168/drarropoly-founders-edition-info-faq) dice roll. My theme was "phoenix feather, wand cores", and the tropes I chose were Powerful Harry (sorta subverted) and Making Assumptions. 
> 
> I read this [pottermore article](https://www.wizardingworld.com/features/how-loyal-is-a-wand-to-a-wizard) and this [fandom wiki article](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Subtle_laws_of_wands) about wands for inspo. In particular this line inspired me: _To win a wand, one must overpower and hence defeat its master in some way (this does not apply in situations such as practise duels, in which being disarmed or defeated will not affect a wand's loyalty)._
> 
> These nefarious wands!! Love that they know when you don't actually want to attack the person you're attacking. And the menu items are taken from [Dishoom](https://www.dishoom.com/food-drink/).
> 
> Thank you for reading! 💛 You can find me on [dw](https://fwooshy.dreamwidth.org/) and [tumblr](https://fw00shy.tumblr.com/).


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